Mediator Games
by Stark237
Summary: Katniss Everdeen is forced to move to Panem when her mother decides to remarry. She soon discovers that life in the big city is quite different than the life she used to know back home, and in addition to trying to fit in and make new friends, Katniss must also deal with the ghosts that come to her for help - including the teenage boy that died in her room. AU, and slightly OOC


The room was stripped bare of any posters, keepsakes or knick-knacks that might have marked it as belonging to a teenage girl. The curtains had also been taken down, and in its absence beams of the afternoon sunlight came streaming into the room, occasionally catching notes of dust and giving the room an underwater feel.

A clicking sound could be heard throughout the apartment as Katniss Everdeen repeatedly ran her thumb across the lighter, trying to ignite it. Cursing softly to herself, the sixteen year old shook the object, glaring indignantly at the lack of lighter fluid in the transparent plastic and tried once more, this time successfully producing a little flame. Quickly, she grabbed the last cigarette in the box and lit it.

"That is disgusting. Please promise me you'll quit once we move," her mother said, worriedly chewing on her thumb nail.

Katniss absently stared at her own nails, wondering if she'd picked that habit up from her mother or if it was the cigarette withdrawals. In truth, she had already tried to quit the habit several times already. Though not for any health reasons. No, Katniss had always been independent, and had decided that if she was going to smoke, she would pay for the habit herself. Unfortunately, a sixteen year old with a part-time job could hardly afford the cigarettes to begin with, and since she'd quit her job a week ago in preparation of their big move to the Capitol, she knew she had to stop smoking - and she would, just as soon as she exhausted all her funds. At least that's what she told herself.

"I know, Mother," Katniss replied stiffly, rolling her eyes and ashing the cigarette before pocketing the remainder of the tobacco in her jeans pocket.

Her mother looked unconvinced, but exited the room anyway.

When Katniss' father had passed away from a heart attack two years ago, her mother had become the sole parent in her life. Fiona Everdeen used to work as a journalist for the local newspaper, traveling to exotic places and leaving Sakura behind with her husband. After his death, adjustments had to be made, including her quitting her job and starting her own online magazine so that she could work at home.

Fiona had spent little time with her daughter in her developmental stages, and was now having to deal with a teenager who was already an independent individual, seemingly with no room in her life for a "new" parent to step in. She didn't feel like Katniss' mother most of them time. She loved her daughter, but struggled with enforcing any rules with her, too scared was she of pushing her away. That's why for the most part she raised no objection to her daughter's smoking, reasoning that it could be a lot worse.

But about a year ago she had met someone online, and eventually she went to visit him in the Capitol. Things became serious, and the two were planning to get married this summer. His name was Brett Mellark, and aside from being something of a local celebrity due to his popular bakery store, he was also a single father to three boys, one of whom was already in his senior year.

So _of course _the Everdeen's would pack up their lives and move 1200km away from the only life they'd known. Fiona would look for a job as a journalist there, Brett having assured her there were plenty of job opportunities. And Katniss? Well, she'd have to attend a new school, the same private school Brett's sons went to.

It didn't seem very fair to Katniss, but she grit her teeth and tried her best not to let her temper get the best of her. She was determined to make this work. A new life where no one knew her history. Or her _talents._..

X X X

The morning of the move was calm, abnormally so. Everything had been packed away in the day's prior. My school had already taken care of the transfer slips. I had no job and no friends to bid farewell to. There was however someone I would have liked to speak to before we took off, but I understood how unpredictable his timing was, and I knew that no matter where I went, he'd know how to find me.

At 7a.m. we left our home in District 12, travelling by train for just under an hour, and then taking a small plane from District 2 to the Capitol. By the time we arrived at the airport, jet-lagged and hungry (well, _I_ was hungry, my mother wasn't), it was well after 2p.m - the time my mother told Brett we'd be arriving.

And yet, we had barely lifted our luggage off the conveyor when hands reached out to help carry them for us and my mother was embracing Brett.

It was curious to see Brett's boys wearing the same revulsion I felt as they watched their father's open displays of affection.

"I can manage," I said, staring evenly at the boy in front of me who was trying to take my suitcases.

The boy seemed to consider me for a long moment before rolling his eyes and shrugging. I took a second to assess him; from his deliberately torn Soviet jeans, faded blue t-shirt, and finally to his round, slightly tanned face, that looked so much like his father. I recognized him immediately from the pictures my mother had shown me as Darius Mellark, the youngest of Brett's boys at only twelve years old, and it was with no small amount of dismay that I realised his head was already level with my shoulder, in a year or two it seemed likely that he would be taller than me.

I recognized the other two fairly quickly as well. No doubt the one carrying my mother's luggage was the oldest - Thresh. At 18, he looked the spitting image of his father, except his hair was dark instead of blonde like the rest of the family, and he towered over everyone, including Brett. There were deep shadows beneath his eyes from lack of sleep, and stubbly growth around his jawline. I suppose he could be considered handsome to some.

The middle child, who was pretending to tie his shoelace in order to avoid carrying luggage, was Cato. A full head taller than me despite the fact that he was two months my junior, Cato had the sort of face that I immediately associate with stupidity. Vacant blue eyes spaced far apart on his equally broad face, he had the same colouring as Brett and Darius, but his features were much larger, and less defined. As he felt my eyes upon him, he seemed to read my mind and fixed me with a scowl.

X X X

Brett and Thresh both owned spacious cars, so we piled our luggage into the trunks and grabbed some take-out before heading "home" to Brett's family estate.

"What do you think, Katniss? This home's belonged to the Mellarks' since the early 1900's", Brett said proudly. He had been trying to get me to talk all day, and though I appreciated his attempts at welcoming me into his family, it all felt too Hallmark for me to truly feel comfortable.

However, he had my attention the moment he mentioned how old this place was. Old buildings were never a good sign for someone like me. Some of my trepidation must have shown on my face, because in the next minute my mother decided to intervene.

"You have the entire third floor all to yourself, isn't that nice?" My mother's tone brooked no arguments so I simply nodded, pretending not to notice Cato snickering behind me.

I made up some half-truth about being jet-lagged and wanting to sleep early, and headed upstairs to my room, quickly locking the door behind me and taking out my lighter and a half smoked cigarette from earlier. Not even bothering to take in my surroundings, I walked across the room and opened the window before distractedly walking towards the bed and sitting down, all the while trying to get the lighter to spark.

By the time a small flame appeared, I was quite sure my thumb had blistered, but it was worth it in the end as I pulled the first bit of toxic fumes into my lungs for the first time in almost 20 hours.

After a while, I began to relax and noticed, with no small bit of surprise, that the room had been redecorated recently, and the style was actually to my taste. Brett must have been working on this room for a long time. Guiltily, I remembered how stand-offish I'd been all day and silently resolved to speak to Brett tomorrow.

Almost unconsciously, I ran my hand across the green comforter beneath me, idly reflecting on the Mellarks. Although none of them dressed the part, it was becoming more and more evident how wealthy they were. As if the 700 acre fully furnished and completely functional estate that's been in their family _for generations, _wasn't enough, Brett had also mentioned on the drive over that the school I would be attending, Panem High, was the leading educational institute in the country, and apparently even the president's granddaughter went there.

I wasn't ashamed of my upbringing, having lived in a lower-middle class household my whole life. But I was extremely aware how different these classmates of mine would be from me, and I knew immediately that any thoughts I might have had of fitting in were almost non-existent now.

It was just as I was dwelling over all this that I noticed my cigarette was almost done. But all these pessimistic thoughts about tomorrow had left me feeling anxious and in need of more nicotine, so I took out a second half-smoked cigarette and lit it of the first one, unintentionally getting an eye-full of smoke and having to blink back the tears.

"Disgusting."

I had to blink a few more times to see clearly, and when I did finally see the glowing, human-sized boy in front of me, I knew it was not a result of the fumes. He had the same blonde hair and blue eyes that marked him as a Mellark - unsurprising, considering this place had been owned by them for over a century. He looked like he might have been Thresh's age, and even had a similar built; broad shouldered, without being too bulky.

The look on his face was priceless once he saw me looking at him, and for a moment I was tempted to yell "boo!" and laugh maniacally.

"You can _see _me?" He asked, in awe. Not surprising really, since the faint orange glow that surrounded him announced him as dead, and most people couldn't see or hear ghosts.

But I wasn't _most people,_ I was Katniss Everdeen, sixteen year old medium, and seeing ghosts when I least expected them was just part of the job.


End file.
